


Defector

by Topographical_Map_Of_Utah



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, anxiety attack, it's early and im tired so here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 13:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10594836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topographical_Map_Of_Utah/pseuds/Topographical_Map_Of_Utah
Summary: Galen gave Bodhi the message for a reason.





	

The ship thrummed with steady ease and the engine purred contentedly below his feet, but Bodhi looked over the shuttle for the tenth, possibly twelfth time. He had disconnected his comms, ejected his cargo, dropped himself off of the map, done everything he could think of to keep the Empire off of his back. It wouldn't work forever, he knew. They would track him down, torture him, steal the message- 

_The message._

Gripped by sudden panic Bodhi scrambled through the pockets that covered his drab grey uniform, blood running like ice through his veins. The message. He had lost Galen's message. He had lost the message and had lost the one chance they had and-

Bodhi blinked. There it was, in his right breast pocket, right where he had left it.

"Kriff-" Gasping for breath, he staggered over to the cockpit and slumped into the pilot's seat, gripping the armrests so his hands would stop shaking. The message seemed to weigh on his chest like a hand squeezing his heart. This was driving him mad. This wasn't a job for someone like him. Galen had made a terrible, terrible mistake, trusting him. 

Bodhi had known from the beginning that he wasn't brave enough to do this. He wasn't a hero, that he knew for sure. Heroes didn't tremble at the thought of being tortured, didn't stutter when they spoke of their mission. Heroes weren't scared of their own shadow dancing across the wall because they thought it was a Stormtrooper.

_Listen to your heart,_ Galen had told him. _Let it guide you._

So Bodhi did. He listened, tried to find whatever it was that Galen had seen in him. But his heart just pounded like a war drum in his chest, threatened to burst out of its prison of flesh and bone. It drew blood away from his fingers, made them tremble and numb. It beat too fast, pulse burning under his skin like lava. It urged him to run far, far away and never look back.

It hurt. It really, truly hurt.

To calm himself Bodhi thought of all of the cold, fretful days on Jedha, all the nights of restless, dreamless sleep. He thought of the friends who had all scattered to the wind, who he would never see again. He thought of his mother, her tired face with features etched in stone. A loving, practical woman. She had made sure her son never let his dreams carry him away, made sure to keep him grounded in their reality, as harsh as it was.  

At four he had dreams of the mysterious Jedi, of the heroic few who held the fabric of reality in their hands. At seven he had dreams of seeing the galaxy, of exploring and discovering what lay beyond its furthest reaches. At eighteen he had dreams of being a starfighter pilot, daring and strong. Now, at twenty five, he had dreams of surviving. But why should that dream remain, when all others had been so decisively ripped away? His lightsaber had been a discarded antenna, and his travels never strayed far from his father's watchful eye. He became an ensign rather than a fighter pilot, and that, probably, was what had put an end to all of his dreaming.

Because what point was there in dreams, he reasoned, when time revealed them to be illusions? Tricks of the light, that left you cold and dark in their absence. They had left him there, ripped and torn and dragged through the mud. There was no point in dreams since he was unimportant, expendable, collateral damage.

A speck of dust drifting through the space between the stars. 

But something must be different. Something must have driven Galen to trust him. And it hadn't been Bodhi's fear, and it hadn't been his uncertainty. Somehow Galen had known that all Bodhi had needed was a mission. A purpose. So when Galen gave him those plans, he gave Bodhi a fighting chance, a dream to believe in. A heart that was telling him to go, and control over where he would end up.

He could turn back, hand over Galen's message to the Empire in exchange for immunity. 

He could disappear with the message, fade into the emptiness of deep space and the anonymity of faceless moons and planets.

He could find Saw Gerrera, deliver the message, and give the Rebellion the barest sliver of a chance in this war. 

The choice was his and his alone to make. Bodhi pressed a hand to his heart and shuddered. In the cockpit of an Empire cargo shuttle, surrounded by all he had known, and all he could destroy, if he so chose. So the question remained. 

"I defected." he said quietly. When the console didn't contradict him Bodhi took a deep breath and opened his eyes, watched the stars flicker and dance overhead. "I defected." The words were bolder. A smile spread across his face and he laughed, surprising even himself with the sound. "I defected!"

The revelation still rang through the cockpit as Bodhi adjusted his goggles on his forehead, swallowing down the swirl of fear and excitement and nausea as best he could while he input coordinates for Jedha. He would be heard. He would be known. He would find Saw and deliver the message and prove everyone and everything wrong. He was a pilot. He was a defector. He was part of the galaxy's last hope.

Soon enough, that little speck was going to eclipse the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> here have my mistreated space bro coming to grips with the fact that he's awesome


End file.
